


time goes by and still i'm stuck on you

by lostresidentevilpotter



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, basically leah and fatin start as friends with benefits and it goes from there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Fatin is pretty, and she’s nothing like Jeff, and Leah just needs to escape from her bedroom (and her own thoughts) for a few hours.So here’s how it goes.Or, an AU where the island never happens and Leah tries to get over Jeff in the worst (or best) way possible.
Relationships: Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke
Comments: 184
Kudos: 605





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I should totally be focusing on homework or my other fic, but this was nagging at me and I hammered it out in two days (sorry not sorry). The chapters should roll out quickly, since I'm finished writing it. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from Stuck by Imagine Dragons

Admittedly, fucking Fatin Jadmani in some stranger’s bed at a random party Leah shouldn’t even be at isn’t Leah’s best idea ever. But then again, telling a grown man that she’s eighteen even though she’s barely seventeen and then carrying a whole relationship with him wasn’t her best idea ever, either. At least this makes a little more sense. Jeff has been gone for sixteen days (not that Leah’s counting, except she is), and Leah is completely blocked from contacting him (not that she’s tried to reach him – but no, of course she has). And Fatin is pretty, and she’s nothing like Jeff, looks or personality wise, and Leah just needs to escape from her bedroom (and her own thoughts) for a few hours.

So here’s how it goes.

Ian was the one to suggest going to the party, and seventeen days ago (one day before the fateful last text from Jeff) Leah would’ve said _absolutely not_. To be fair, she spent every waking minute possible with Jeff or talking to him on the phone or texting him or reading his book (for the millionth time). Now her life is just…empty. Being around people she doesn’t know and drinking shitty alcohol actually does not sound like a completely terrible idea, so Leah agrees to go to the party.

“But we’re leaving,” she warns, “if any disgusting frat bros hit on me.”

Ian just laughs. “Of course they’re going to hit on you,” he says. He flashes the smile that he always flashes before he acts like an asshole then adds, “You’re hot as hell, Leah.”

She shoves him as he laughs, and she rolls her eyes. “Shut the fuck up,” she replies.

“Just reject them,” Ian says. “Tell them you’re a lesbian.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

Ian shrugs. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be true for you to say it.”

“No, if I tell them I’m a lesbian, they’ll say something even worse.”

“Then don’t leave my side all night.”

She doesn’t intend to. Really doesn’t. But after her third drink, she loses sight of Ian and soon after forgets she even came to this party with anyone. She won’t be able to get home without him, unless she wants to walk. And she might. Walking home becomes a very tempting idea after she catches sight of a guy that (only in the vaguest way) resembles Jeff, and thinking about Jeff sours her whole mood and makes her want to drink until she passes out under a table. But just as Leah’s about to push her way through the crowd to the front door, the door swings open, bangs against the wall, and Fatin Jadmani arrives more than two hours after the party started.

In a normal school, Fatin Jadmani would probably be one of the most popular people. But at their artsy-fartsy expensive private school, no one pays any attention to Fatin (except for the guys that’re trying to get into her pants – and from the rumors Leah’s heard, plenty of them have succeeded). Leah only found out, like, a week ago that Fatin’s at their school because she’s some cello prodigy (and she already received her acceptance letter to Juilliard, so fuck her). Leah has never made a conscious effort to interact with Fatin, even though they do have a class together (it’s biology, and Leah’s pretty sure Fatin’s failing).

Leah’s eyes, like everyone else’s eyes in the room, land straight on Fatin as she strolls in. She’s wearing a crop top with a phrase that Leah can’t read at this distance across the chest (and she’s not wearing a bra – that much is obvious) and jean shorts that might as well just be underwear. They don’t even fully cover Fatin’s ass. And Leah shouldn’t be staring, but she watches Fatin disappear into the kitchen, and suddenly, Leah’s less interested in leaving.

(The shirt, Leah later finds out, reads _DON’T HATE ME CUZ YOU AIN’T ME_ in shimmery gold cursive lettering.)

In all honesty, Leah doesn’t remember striking up a conversation with Fatin, but suddenly they’re in the living room, red solo cups in hand, complaining about the biology homework that’s due on Monday.

“It doesn’t even make any sense,” Fatin says.

(It would if Fatin would do the reading, but it’s more than thirty pages, and Leah bets Fatin has plenty of more important things to do with her time. Like going to cello practice and frat parties and fucking random guys, probably.)

“No, yeah, I was thinking of emailing Kreiser and telling him that he never taught us any of this,” Leah replies. “But I might just make some answers up.”

(Old Leah would’ve never. Old Leah – the Leah that existed in a world without Jeffrey Galanis – would’ve sat her ass down, pored over the textbook, and figured it out. But now, she realizes, she might not be lying to Fatin about this. If she spends all of tomorrow hungover, she might be scribbling down nonsense on Monday morning.)

“We could work on it together?” Fatin suggests, and Leah only just prevents herself from laughing hysterically.

“Oh…really?”

Fatin shrugs. “Why not? You busy tomorrow?”

(Leah’s schedule looks like this: sleep until she wakes up, spend the rest of the day in bed thinking about and crying over Jeff, maybe throw together the biology assignment she’d purposely saved for last. So maybe her life is a little pathetic now.)

“Apart from dealing with the hangover that I’ll definitely have?” Leah says. “No, not at all.”

“Well,” Fatin says, smirking as she reaches over and snatches Leah’s phone out of her back pocket. (And she definitely grazes Leah’s ass, even though she could’ve totally avoided doing so.) “I’ll give you my number,” Fatin says, “and if you’re feeling up to it, we could meet up somewhere and work it out together.”

Leah’s mouth goes dry as she watches Fatin type her number into her phone then hold it out. “Yeah,” Leah manages to croak. She takes her phone back, accidentally touching Fatin’s fingers, and clears her throat. “Totally.”

Fatin smiles, and Leah doesn’t sense any insincerity in it. “Awesome,” Fatin says. “Now,” she continues, “I need your opinion.”

“On what?”

Fatin points a finger at a guy standing on the other side of the room. (The guy that reminds Leah of Jeff, even though they barely look alike.) “You think he’s hot or not?”

“Definitely not,” Leah answers immediately.

“Really?”

(Leah’s not drunk enough for this conversation. She nearly excuses herself to use the bathroom.)

“He looks like this guy I used to date,” Leah says before she even realizes the words have left her mouth. “So yeah, not worth it. To me.”

Fatin hums. “No, you’re probably right. So which one would you pick?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Which guy here would you pick to fuck?” Fatin says as if it should be obvious.

Leah’s jaw hangs open for a second, but reluctantly, she lets her eyes drift around the room. “Honestly?” Leah says, finishing off the last sip left in her cup. “None of them.”

“Not a single one?”

Leah shrugs. “They all look boring. I don’t know. If I _had_ to choose, like, gun to my head sort of thing, maybe that guy.”

Fatin looks where Leah’s pointing and scoffs. “Oh, yeah, no. Trust me, sweetie. Don’t bother.”

Leah busts out laughing, and when Fatin smiles, she looks almost proud of herself. “Trust _me_ , sweetie. I wasn’t going to,” Leah says once she gets her laughter under control. This time, Fatin laughs, but she looks surprised about it.

“You know, you’re pretty funny,” Fatin says. “Why haven’t we ever talked before?”

“I don’t know,” Leah mumbles. (She knows why. She totally knows why, but it would be incredibly impolite to say it out loud to Fatin’s face, and Leah hasn’t lost all of her manners yet.)

“I’m surprised you’re even at a party like this,” Fatin says. “No offense.”

Leah waves her off. “It was my friend’s idea, but I don’t even know where he is now.”

“What kind of friend ditches you at a party where you don’t know anyone?”

Good question. (But, to be fair, Leah might’ve ditched Ian without realizing it, but he’s had plenty of time to come find her and hasn’t yet, so. Maybe Fatin has a point.)

“I mean,” Leah says slowly. “I know you?”

Fatin nods, like Leah has said something deeply profound. “Yeah. True story.” There’s a slight lull in their conversation, and right when Leah’s about to break the increasingly awkward silence to excuse herself, Fatin asks, “You want to help me to find a decent guy to fuck?”

Leah’s lucky her drink is gone, otherwise she would’ve choked. “I don’t know what you count as _decent_.”

Fatin shrugs. “I know it when I see it.” She takes Leah’s wrist in her hand. “Come on. Let’s snoop around.”

Leah’s going to need another drink before she can handle this, but when she says so, Fatin just pushes her half-full cup into Leah’s hand and drags her along. The next hour goes like this:

“How about him?”

“No.”

“Him?”

“His hairline’s already receding.”

“Hmm, shit, you’re right. But what about that guy?”

“He looks creepy. I don’t know what it is. It’s just a vibe.”

Fatin jabs Leah in the stomach, nodding solemnly. “Vibes are important,” she says, and Leah empties Fatin’s cup, splashing some of the alcohol down her chin. “Girl, you’re a mess, and I’m going to let you choose my man of the night?” Fatin laughs.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Leah mutters. She swipes the alcohol from her face. “I didn’t ask to choose your man, by the way.”

“Maybe I’m just not getting laid tonight,” Fatin muses. “All the guys here _suck_.”

“Men suck, period.”

“Touché,” Fatin replies. “Well, if there are no good guys, I have to salvage this night somehow.”

“How?”

Fatin smirks and holds out her hands, wiggling her fingers. “How do you feel about dancing?”

*

Fatin doesn’t once lose Leah in the crowd while they’re dancing, the way Leah expects her to. In fact, Leah doesn’t think Fatin takes her hands off of her _once_. (And, Leah will grudgingly admit to herself, it’s kind of nice to be pressed up against another human being. It’s kind of nice to feel Fatin’s hands on her hips, on her lower back. Maybe even on her ass, but Leah isn’t positive that _that_ wasn’t the guy dancing behind her instead of Fatin.)

The current song ends, and in the slight pause before the next one starts, Leah grasps onto Fatin’s shoulders to keep herself upright, suddenly a bit dizzy.

“You good?” Fatin asks, and Leah’s body tenses when Fatin’s lips (most likely accidentally) graze against her ear.

“I, um, yeah,” Leah stutters. “Maybe. I’m probably just overheating.”

Fatin hums (and they’re so close together that Leah has no trouble hearing it) then says, “You are looking a little…hot.” (Even though she isn’t really looking at Leah right now so much as looking over her shoulder at whatever’s behind her.) Leah falters as Fatin grabs her by the hips, thumbs dipping beneath Leah’s shirt and pressing against her stomach (again, it’s probably totally accidental). Leah’s hands slide from Fatin’s shoulders and Fatin uses her hold on Leah to spin her around and guide her away from the people. Fatin manages to snatch Leah a bottle of water before she says, “Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

Leah can’t even argue. Fatin’s grasp on her is firm (but Leah can’t find it in herself to mind it), and the next thing Leah knows, they’re climbing a flight of stairs. And it’s quieter on the second floor, but it’s _much_ quieter in the bedroom Fatin soon locks them in. Leah exhales, finally feeling like she can breathe for a moment, and she sits on the edge of the bed and gulps down water.

(Fatin uses this moment to shoot off probably a million texts, leaning back against the door. While Fatin’s distracted, Leah sets her eyes on Fatin’s chest. To read the words on her shirt, of course. _DON’T HATE ME CUZ YOU AIN’T ME_. Classy.)

“You know, I’m very good at telling when someone’s staring at my chest,” Fatin says, and the bitch hasn’t even looked up from her phone. But Leah’s not completely sober, and the last sixteen days have been the worst of her life, and Fatin is nothing like Leah expected. (Though most of her knowledge about Fatin has been heard second or third or fourth hand, so yeah, it’s not the most reliable intel.)

“Yeah?” Leah says.

“Mm-hmm. It’s, like, a superpower or something.”

“Must be.”

Fatin’s still texting, still not looking in Leah’s direction. Leah pushes herself back to her feet, pleased by the fact that she’s not one bit dizzy or unsteady. Leah’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she weighs her options. Well, first she has to consider the fact that Fatin’s still leaning back against the door, so if she wants to leave, she either has to ask Fatin to move or climb out the window and fall to the ground. Sounds like a great way to break an ankle. So obviously she has to stay in the room. (At least, that’s how her brain rationalizes it to her. It’s easier to just stay than to leave.)

“You’re still staring at me, Rilke,” Fatin chuckles.

“You know my last name?”

“Duh,” Fatin says, rolling her eyes. She tucks her phone into the pocket of her shorts, which is hilarious, because her shorts are so small that her phone barely fits. “Kreiser calls roll every morning. You’re near the end of the list, and he says your last name wrong every time, even though you correct him literally every day.”

Leah’s eyebrows raise. She never would’ve guessed that Fatin paid enough attention to something as silly as that in order to be able to recall it and share it with Leah right now. Fatin’s eyes finally seek out Leah’s, and Fatin just smirks.

“Still staring, honey,” Fatin says. “But you have really pretty eyes, so I guess I’ll give you a pass.” Leah clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle the undignified giggle threatening to escape. Fatin grins then says, “Oh, come on! I bet you hear some shit like that every goddamn day of your life. Your eyes are, like, unbelievable, man. Totally gorgeous. And don’t even act like you don’t know it’s true.”

(Leah does field quite a few compliments about her eyes from everyone from teachers to her friends’ parents to interested boys and maybe slightly jealous girls. It’s usually the compliment she hates the most – and she made Jeff swear never to bring it up, right at the beginning – but hearing Fatin say it floods Leah’s body with a strange warm feeling. And she’s pretty sure it’s not due to the alcohol lingering in her system.)

“Whatever,” Leah says.

“Something’s got you fucked up,” Fatin observes. Leah’s jaw hangs open for a long moment, but it’s like her brain has stalled; it offers her no words, and she just hopes Fatin will say something else. “Or someone,” Fatin adds.

“How can you – why do you –?”

“Look, I know heartbreak when I see it,” Fatin says. “And it’s been all over your face all night. Especially when I asked you to point out hot guys to me. So obviously someone’s on your mind, or something major happened. And I know we basically just met a couple hours ago, but I have some advice. If you want it.”

“Sure,” Leah says faintly.

“You want to get over someone?” Fatin says. “Fuck someone else. That’ll usually do the trick. And if it doesn’t, just keep fucking until you don’t even remember the asshole who hurt you in the first place.”

“I don’t know if –”

“Some people also just go on a lot of dates,” Fatin interjects, smiling gently. “You know, if casual sex isn’t your thing.”

Leah’s still at a loss for words, so she just nods. “I appreciate the advice, but I’m not –”

“What’s his name?”

“Jeff.”

Fatin makes a face. “Jeff. That’s, like, a dad name.”

“He was…older.”

“Apparently.”

“I don’t really want to talk about him,” Leah mumbles.

“And you shouldn’t,” Fatin agrees. Leah chooses the wrong time to take another sip of water, because the next sentence out of Fatin’s mouth is, “You should find someone to fuck your brains out,” and Leah nearly spits water on some frat guy’s hardwood floor.

“Yeah, I’m not interested in finding a guy to sleep with,” Leah says once she has safely swallowed her water. “We already decided all the guys here are shit.”

Leah doesn’t like the smile that crosses Fatin’s face. It matches the mischievous glint in her eyes as she says, “Sweetheart, I didn’t say to find a _guy_ to fuck your brains out.”

(Okay, so Leah shouldn’t really be surprised that Fatin – and probably everyone else in their small, gossipy school – knows that she’s bi. There may have been an incident, and Leah may have been the talk of the school last year, but Leah forgot all about it, because she was so worried about keeping a lid on her not-so-legal fling with Jeffrey Galanis.)

Leah’s brain does that annoying thing where it stalls again and refuses to tell her what to say. Because frankly, Leah doesn’t know if Fatin means they should go look for a girl or if Fatin means _herself_. And Leah doesn’t want to offend her by guessing incorrectly, but she honestly cannot tell.

“I’m…sorry?” Leah says, and her voice sounds a little shriller than it normally is.

“Don’t play dumb, Leah,” Fatin replies. “You’re basically lined up to be valedictorian. I know you aren’t stupid.”

(Well, Leah _was_ lined up to be valedictorian, but since the Jeff incident – meaning both meeting him and letting him consume all her time and then being left by him, which also consumes all her time – her grades have been steadily slipping, and she’s going to lose valedictorian to Kim Sheffield. And Leah’s only been competing with her since –)

“Say yes or say no,” Fatin says, and Leah finally drags herself out of her own thoughts long enough to realize Fatin is not leaning against the door anymore. No, Fatin is standing in Leah’s personal space, and Leah only just realizes for the first time that she’s a little bit taller than Fatin (but only a little bit – maybe an inch or two). But when they were dancing, Fatin was a little bit taller than Leah, so how did –

Leah spots Fatin’s heels abandoned by the door, and Leah’s eyes instinctively flick to the doorknob. Locked, as far as Leah can tell. Leah isn’t really going to fuck a girl she hardly knows in a stranger’s bedroom while a party still rages on the floor below them, is she?

“Yes.”

Fatin smiles. “Atta girl. I can make you one promise, okay?”

“Okay?”

Fatin’s fingers swiftly undo Leah’s belt and move right onto popping the button of her jeans. “I’ll make you forget all about Jeff. At least while you’re with me.”

*

Leah has about a thousand text messages waiting for her the next time she checks her phone.

**Ian, 11:51 p.m.** _Where are you?_

**Ian, 11:54 p.m.** _Leah_

**Ian, 11:56 p.m.** _Leah_

**Ian, 12:02 a.m.** _Where did you go?_

**Ian, 12:11 a.m.** _Seriously my mom’s freaking out we gotta go or I’m dead_

**Ian, 12:15 a.m.** _If you don’t answer me in five minutes you’re gonna have to find a ride back with someone else_

**Ian, 12:20 a.m.** _Seriously I’m leaving. Don’t do anything stupid_

Leah flinches. Too late. She doesn’t know what to say back to him, so she doesn’t send anything. Besides, she doesn’t feel right texting Ian back while she’s not wearing a single article of clothing.

“Is your mom freaking out?” Fatin asks.

“No,” Leah says. “Ian – the friend I came here with. He just went home. Well, I guess he went home an hour ago.”

“His loss.”

Leah grunts. (If Ian really cared so much, he would’ve tried harder to find her. Or he would’ve never lost track of her in the first place.)

“Do you know where the fuck we are?” Leah asks.

“Like?”

“The address.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Fatin snorts. “Toss me my shirt, will you?”

Leah leans over the edge of the bed and snatches up the crop top from the floor. She holds it out, eyes still locked on her phone screen, on the message that comes through right now.

**Ian, 1:31 a.m.** _Text me when you’re home_

That, at least, Leah knows how to answer.

**1:32 a.m.** _I will_

Leah drops her phone to the bed beside her, exhaling heavily. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, already feeling tomorrow’s scheduled hangover coming on. The mattress shifts as Fatin gets up, probably to search for wherever her shorts landed (and she needs those shorts; not only was Fatin not wearing a bra, but she also didn’t bother with any panties). A moment later, Leah hears a zipper, hears Fatin walk over toward the door to get her shoes on.

(She expects Fatin to walk out and only lowers her hands from her eyes when she realizes she hasn’t heard the door unlock yet.)

“Do we need to talk or something?” Fatin asks.

“What?”

“You look more depressed than satisfied, and it’s bumming me out a bit, Rilke. I was good, and I know you thought so, too, so what’s with the face?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Leah decides. They aren’t friends. (Not real friends, anyway. Leah would have to concede they were friends for the night, but this isn’t going to carry over into their regular lives. This was a onetime kind of deal.) They _definitely_ aren’t girlfriends. And Leah does not feel like sharing her shit with the girl she fucked in a sad attempt to move on from Jeff.

(Fatin did keep her promise, though. At least while Leah was with her, she wasn’t thinking about Jeff. Not at all.)

“Suit yourself,” Fatin replies. Leah’s phone buzzes next to her head, and she groans but doesn’t grab it. It’s either Ian again, or her mother finally got fed up waiting for her to come home and sent her usual _wake me up when you get home_ text. Leah hears Fatin’s heels click on the wood floor, and Leah nearly jumps out of her skin when Fatin’s hand smacks (gently, though, really more of a single pat) against her thigh. “Hey,” Fatin says, drawing Leah’s eyes to her face. (And maybe Leah takes a little pleasure in the way she catches Fatin’s eyes dragging down her body before quickly flicking back up to meet Leah’s gaze again.) “Get your clothes on,” Fatin says. “I can’t wait all night.”

“Wait…for what?” Leah questions.

“You,” Fatin sighs. She bends down and picks Leah’s shirt up herself, drops it on Leah’s bare chest. “Come on. I’ll drop you off.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Shut up. It’s the least I can do after making you miss your ride.”

Leah doesn’t point out how she chose to miss her ride herself, but she isn’t about to turn down an offer of a ride home. She pulls her shirt over her head then realizes she probably should’ve put her bra back on first. Fatin has gathered up the rest of Leah’s clothes in the time it takes Leah to sit up and pull her shirt back off, and Fatin deposits them in Leah’s lap.

“Hurry,” Fatin says.

“Rushing me won’t help.”

“Yeah, I noticed that earlier.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Fatin grins, shrugs. “Hey, it takes as long as it takes, right? I made it happen eventually, didn’t I?”

It’s crazy how Leah could spend at least two hours fucking Fatin, but when Fatin vaguely refers back to it, it makes Leah’s face burn red. (At least the light in the bedroom is dim enough to mostly conceal it, and Fatin’s eyes return to her phone before long, so maybe she doesn’t notice.) Maybe it’s only just sinking in that this really happened – and obviously Fatin knows it happened, and if she wants to, she could spread this shit around the school, and eventually it’ll get to Ian, and –

“Why’d you stop?” Fatin asks. Leah’s standing with her jeans halfway up, but Fatin’s right, she did freeze right there. “You spend a lot of time in your own head, don’t you?” Fatin guesses. She doesn’t wait for a response. She goes over and pulls Leah’s jeans up the rest of the way herself, going so far as to button and zip them for Leah. “Don’t worry,” Fatin says. With her heels back on, she’s got a slight edge on Leah height-wise, and it’s kind of unnerving now that Leah’s aware of it. Leah isn’t used to being short. (Except around _him_.) Their faces are only inches apart, but that’s kind of the least of Leah’s worries given how she’s spent her last few hours. Fatin smiles. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this,” Fatin whispers, even though whispering is really not necessary. “Can’t guarantee no one will see us on our way out, though.”

“I’m not worried,” Leah says, and that’s partially a lie, but it gets Fatin to shrug and step out of her personal space.

“Don’t forget your phone.”

“Right.”

Leah checks her messages. The last text was from Ian again, not her mom.

**Ian, 1:36 a.m.** _Wait you mean you’re not home yet?? Who are you with??_

**1:48 a.m.** _Don’t worry about it_

Leah hits send, switches on do not disturb, and tucks her phone into her back pocket. She follows Fatin out of the bedroom, and thankfully, there’s no one out in the hallway to see them. Most of the people have cleared out by now, though there’s more than a few people passed out in the living room when Leah and Fatin walk by.

“I parked around the corner,” Fatin tells Leah when they step outside. “It’s a bit of a walk.”

“I can’t complain,” Leah replies. “I’m just glad I don’t have to walk all the way home.”

“I’d be kind of a dick if I made you do that,” Fatin says. “Especially after you were so –”

“We really don’t have to do this,” Leah interrupts.

“What? Talk about how we fucked?” Fatin teases. Leah rolls her eyes, ignores the smile on Fatin’s face. “No need to be shy about it. We did it. So what?”

“So I’d rather the entire school didn’t find out,” Leah says. “Shit’s hard enough as it is.”

“I’m not going to spread it around school,” Fatin says, rolling her eyes. “But there’s no point in the two of us pretending, is there?”

“This doesn’t make us anything,” Leah snaps.

“Never said it did, baby,” Fatin replies. She’s so nonchalant about it, and Leah’s so indignant at Fatin calling her _baby_ so flippantly that Leah forgets to say anything back. “Oh, and my offer still stands,” Fatin says when they finally reach her car. (Her car, which does not look like it belongs parked along a curb in this neighborhood. No, this car should be on display at an auto show. This is the kind of car Ian would stop to drool over if he saw it on the street.) Leah almost hits her head on her way in, the damn thing sits so low.

“What offer?” Leah questions once they’re settled inside. (Except Leah’s not comfortable at all. She feels like she doesn’t belong in this car, like she might ruin it just by sitting here with her hands clasped in her lap.)

“Biology,” Fatin says. “You know. Doing the homework together tomorrow. Well, I guess it’s today. Whatever. Text me and let me know.”

“Yeah,” Leah says, but she already knows she isn’t going to text Fatin. She’s not about to meet Fatin at a library or coffee shop or wherever to do homework twelve hours after she came on Fatin’s face. (Twice.) That would defeat the purpose of their conversation about how fucking each other doesn’t make them anything.

Fatin drives fast, as she should in a car like this, but it doesn’t make Leah nervous. (Old Leah would’ve told her to slow the fuck down, but this is Post-Jeff Leah, and Post-Jeff Leah doesn’t give a fuck if they end up wrapped around a tree. At least her last orgasm before she dies wasn’t from fucking Jeff Galanis.)

Leah checks her phone out of a lack of anything better to do during the ten minute ride to her house. Though do not disturb has kept her phone from buzzing, there’s plenty of shit for Leah to read through.

**Ian, 1:50 a.m.** _What do you mean don’t worry about it??_

**Ian, 1:51 a.m.** _Oh god did you do something stupid?_

**Ian, 1:52 a.m.** _Did you DO someone??_

**Ian, 1:55 a.m.** _LEAH PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T BANG ANYONE_

Leah’s feeling a bit like being a jerk, so she replies:

**1:56 a.m.** _Maybe I did do someone what’s it to you_

**1:56 a.m.** _I might have HPV now not sure but don’t really care_

She knows that’ll really set Ian off. (And she doesn’t really think Fatin has HPV. She knows Ian will never be able to guess that Leah slept with _Fatin Jadmani_. He’ll sooner guess that Leah had a secret relationship with thirty-six year old Jeff Galanis, the author of the assigned book that Ian never read for their English class, before he ever guesses Leah fucked Fatin.)

“Are you always this quiet after you fuck someone and they give you a ride home?” Fatin questions.

Leah sighs. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t normally fuck people then get rides home from them.”

“Do you normally fuck people then talk to them after? Or at all?”

“We’ve talked,” Leah says defensively. “What more do you want me to say? Thank you?”

“Might be a start.”

“God,” Leah exhales. “You’re something, Fatin.”

“I’m the best goddamn lay you’ve ever had, is what I am,” Fatin boasts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

(Leah can’t. At least, not honestly. She’s lucky she’s spared from responding because Fatin pulls into her driveway.)

“Thanks for the ride,” Leah says.

“Oh, yeah, anytime,” Fatin replies. Their eyes lock right before Leah’s about to shut the door. “Thanks for the orgasms.”

The door slams loud enough to wake everyone on Leah’s street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible!


	2. Chapter 2

Leah wakes up with a pounding headache and the vague sense that something is wrong. She told her mother she was home when she walked in around two in the morning.

(“Who was that?” her mom asked. “I saw the car from the bedroom window, and it definitely wasn’t Ian’s, so who drove you home?”

“Just a friend from school,” Leah muttered. “God. I’m going to bed.”)

Leah had enough sense to leave water and Advil sitting on her nightstand before she knocked out, and she takes Advil now, downs the glass of water. With the curtains drawn, it’s impossible to tell what time of day it might be until Leah picks up her phone and checks the time. To her surprise, it’s not even 1 p.m. yet. Unsurprisingly, Ian has blown her phone up. Leah gets a kick out of reading through his hysteria before replying:

**12:52 p.m.** _Relax it’s not even a big deal_

**12:52 p.m.** _I’m allowed to fuck people without your permission you know_

There’s a more curious text waiting for her, though, from someone listed in Leah’s phone as “Hottest Bitch at School.”

Fatin. Of course she’d fill in the name when she added her number to Leah’s phone. And when Leah opens the message, she sees there’s already a text sent from her number to Fatin’s. So Fatin has Leah’s number, too. (Say what you will about Fatin, but she’s not an idiot.)

**Hottest Bitch at School, 11:41 a.m.** _i told you i was serious about doing this homework together so you better let me know if i have to suffer through this alone_

Leah deletes Fatin’s name from her contacts before she responds.

**12:57 p.m.** _I’m not really feeling up to doing anything_

Fatin answers fucking fast when she wants to, apparently.

**510-632-7319, 12:59 p.m.** _what if i said lunch is on me?_

**510-632-7319, 12:59 p.m.** _come on, pretty please?_

**510-632-7319, 1:00 p.m.** _don’t make me do this alone :(_

She doesn’t use an emoji. She uses an emoticon. And that’s what does it.

**1:01 p.m.** _God, fine_

**1:01 p.m.** _I have to shower first I feel disgusting_

Right before Leah steps into the shower, she sees Fatin’s response.

**510-632-7319, 1:04 p.m.** _yay!! i’ll pick you up in an hour_

*

Leah eats her lunch before she even looks at her biology materials. Fatin swipes her card and pays for both of their meals without a second thought. They claim a table in the back corner of the restaurant – a restaurant much more expensive than Leah would’ve ever picked, and she almost feels bad for making Fatin pay for her food. (Almost, but she _did_ offer.)

“Leah, no offense, but you look like shit,” Fatin says.

Leah opens her mouth to retort, _yeah, so do you_ , but she can’t, because Fatin looks fucking amazing, like always. “I’m hungover,” Leah says instead.

“I can tell. I can recommend you some concealer for those –”

“Not interested.”

“Right.” Fatin smiles. And it’s weird, how if it was anyone else, Leah would probably be very offended. (If Ian had told her she should cover the bags under her eyes, she would’ve decked him in the jaw.) But there’s nothing malicious in Fatin’s eyes or face or voice. (She’s just genuinely trying to help Leah, if Leah wants it. And as soon as Leah makes it clear she doesn’t, Fatin stops. Interesting.) “Anyway, the fucking bio homework,” Fatin says.

Leah pulls the textbook from her backpack, drops it on the table between them with a loud thud. “The answers are probably in here,” Leah informs. “If we actually want to get shit right.”

Fatin flips the book open to the first page that was assigned. (So maybe she does the reading after all.) She searches for all of five minutes before she groans, “These hands are not _meant_ for science!” (She holds her hands up and wiggles her fingers, her nails freshly painted a lavender color. Leah tries not to stare at Fatin’s hands for too long, knowing that’ll invite Fatin to call her out. But Leah’s pretty surprised Fatin keeps her nails short. Probably has something to do with the cello. Or certain extracurricular activities that Leah only learned Fatin participated in as of last night.)

“We’re just reading,” Leah says.

“Whatever.” Fatin pushes the book toward Leah. “I paid for your overpriced sandwich. You can find the first answer.”

“That overpriced sandwich was a bribe, remember?” Leah replies. Her eyes skim the pages until she finds what she’s looking for. “It’s right here,” Leah says, pressing her finger against the line of text that answers the first question. “Just write it word for word.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fatin says. (Her voice has an unnecessarily sultry tone to it, but Leah just bites down on the inside of her cheek instead of saying anything. But when Fatin catches Leah’s eye, Fatin winks, and Leah’s pretty sure her entire face flushes.) Leah finds the next three answers without any difficulty, but she thinks she should slow down, because as Fatin scribbles down the answer, she says in a way that’s almost a full on moan, “Ugh, _God_ , it’s totally hot how you’re finding these answers so fast. Seriously. I’m, like, legit hot for you right now.”

“Shut up.”

Fatin laughs and pulls the textbook closer to herself. “Fine. My turn. I know how to give as well as take, you know what I’m saying?”

(If the cookie in Leah’s hand wasn’t so overpriced and so delicious, she’d throw it across the table at Fatin.)

“I think you know,” Fatin says. She taps the book. “Here’s number five.”

And it goes like that until they reach the end of the assignment. (“Like that” meaning Leah dodges responding to Fatin’s incessant innuendos or, in one case, blatant flirting while they take turns searching for the answers.)

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Fatin says.

“Define _not so bad_ ,” Leah replies.

“I mean, we spent almost two hours here together and haven’t murdered each other yet,” Fatin jokes.

“I only came because you offered to buy lunch,” Leah says.

Fatin laughs. “Oh, I know.” Fatin shrugs then pushes the biology textbook back towards Leah’s end of the table. “But it got you here, didn’t it?”

Leah grunts. “Guess so. Thanks for lunch.”

“Thanks for helping me,” Fatin says. Their eyes lock from across the table. Leah hesitates. (It’s her turn to say something, but her mind has wandered somewhere Leah would rather not let it go, especially as Fatin’s lips twist into a smile.) “You look like you’re thinking about something,” Fatin observes.

(Not anything Leah can say, especially out loud in a public space.)

“I think sometimes,” Leah says.

“Care to share?”

“Not really.”

Fatin hums. “Well, if you ever want to… _talk_ , you have my number. Use it.”

(Okay, she can’t help herself. She’s just going to ask.)

“Do you – I mean, last night – is that something you normally do?”

“What part?” Fatin asks, dead serious. In fact, Leah’s sort of taken aback by Fatin’s serious attitude towards sex. Leah can feel a blush creeping up her neck toward her face, but Fatin’s just chill. Like they’re talking about the weather.

“Any of it,” Leah says. “You know. The whole _sleeping with women_ thing.”

Fatin grins. “Are you asking me about my personal life, Leah Rilke?”

“Somehow I got dragged into your personal life, so yeah.”

Fatin rolls her eyes. “ _Got dragged into it_ ,” she mimics. “Sweetheart, I invited you in, and you accepted the invitation. But to answer your question, I mean, I normally sleep with guys, but that wasn’t my first time with a woman.”

“I noticed.”

Fatin busts out laughing at that, and a smile flickers on Leah’s face. “Thank you,” Fatin says, suddenly serious again. She shakes her head. “But honestly, women usually just aren’t worth the time, you know? Guys are so much easier.”

“No, yeah, totally,” Leah agrees (too quickly).

“I’d ask if that was your first time,” Fatin says slowly, “but if that rumor that went around last year is actually true…” Fatin trails off, and Leah winces. “So?” Fatin prompts when Leah busies herself with packing up her stuff instead of providing details. “Was the rumor true?”

Leah sighs. “It depends on which version you heard,” she mutters.

“Oh, honey, I heard them all,” Fatin says. Leah stands abruptly, and Fatin’s eyes widen. She jumps to her feet, too, grabbing Leah’s wrist to stop her from storming out. (Even though Fatin drove, Leah could very easily just start walking home. They aren’t far.) “That wasn’t meant as an insult,” Fatin says. “It’s just, you know how people talk, and a lot of it finds its way to me.”

Leah pauses, eyes dropping to Fatin’s hand, still grasping onto her wrist. She starts walking to the door, expecting Fatin to follow (and she does). Leah waits until they’re both in Fatin’s car before she says, “I’m not some crazy freak, okay?”

“I know.”

Leah startles, but to her surprise, Fatin seems sincere. _Fatin_ , the girl Leah always assumed had no substance to her, is the one person who believes her about this. (Even Ian had his doubts.)

“It’s just…shit went bad with her,” Leah explains. “And the first rumor she sent around was true, but then it got all twisted and out of hand, so the rest of it was lies.”

“I kind of figured,” Fatin says. She shakes her head. “I’m not into that whole vengeance shit.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Leah says. “She transferred out six months ago.”

“She wasn’t good enough for our school anyway.”

Leah huffs, not quite able to bring herself to laugh fully. “Yeah.”

“She wasn’t good enough for you, either.”

Leah refuses to meet Fatin’s gaze, staring straight out the tinted windshield instead. “You wouldn’t know.”

“Trust me, I know,” Fatin insists. “So it was her. When I asked you who had you all fucked up at the party last night. It was her, and you just made up that _Jeff_ guy on the spot, right?”

Leah hesitates, debates over telling the truth. (She settles for something in between.) “No, it wasn’t her,” Leah admits. “There was actually a guy named Jeff. That wasn’t a lie.”

“Leah,” Fatin gasps, laying her palm over her chest. “I didn’t know you had such a fascinating personal life.”

“In your defense, I don’t think you ever talked to me until last night.”

“True story.”

“Why did you talk to me?” Leah asks. “You didn’t come in with anyone?”

“I was there to look for a guy to fuck,” Fatin reminds. “I didn’t bring friends. I hate having to watch after those messy bitches when I’m trying to get laid. And bringing guy friends is never a good idea.”

“That didn’t really answer my question.”

“You looked…approachable?” Fatin says.

Leah snorts. “Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, I fucked you, so obviously I think you’re hot –”

“Oh my God,” Leah groans, putting her face in her hands. “Please stop with that.”

“Unlikely. Besides, you usually look the exact opposite of approachable at school, especially with that one kid always following you like a lost puppy.”

“Ian.”

“Him.”

“He doesn’t –”

“He _totally_ does,” Fatin interrupts. “Not important, though. But to answer your question, I knew we had biology together, and you looked a little lost, so I thought, hey, might as well make you my wingwoman. I mean, things didn’t quite go the way I expected, but I have nothing to complain about.” Fatin winks at Leah as Leah rolls her eyes. “And if you ever want to do it again –”

“Jesus, Fatin!”

Fatin laughs. “Call me,” she finishes. She starts the engine. Drops Leah off at home.

(Again, Leah’s confronted with the, “Who’s that?” question from her mother.

“A friend from school,” Leah says.

“I don’t even get a name?”

“She’s just a girl I have a class with, Mom. Nothing special.”)

*

Ian catches Leah in the parking lot Monday morning and jogs over to meet her as she heads for her first class.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Where’ve you been?” he asks. “You barely texted me all weekend after you went MIA at that party.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Leah mumbles. “Had a lot of homework, and I was pretty hungover yesterday. Sorry I didn’t spend more time obsessively checking my phone.”

(Besides, Leah still gets a little disappointed every time she sees she has a text message and it’s not from Jeff. Every time she sees a name pop up instead of a number, she deflates.)

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Ian presses. “Or more accurately, who you fucked?”

“Jesus,” Leah blurts. “You don’t have to say it so loud. And it’s none of your business.”

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“Bye, Ian,” Leah calls before she disappears into her classroom. The day drags, at least until Leah walks into her biology classroom to see a new seating chart projected onto the board.

“New lab partners,” Kreiser announces as a group of students enters the room behind Leah. “Find your spots.”

(Frankly, Leah’s a little disappointed. Her now ex-lab partner loved to do all the work himself, and she was more than happy to slap her name on it and get As without trying.)

Leah spots her name on the chart, not even bothering to look at who she’s partnered with. Her new partner can’t be anywhere near as good as Preston, so Leah just figures she’ll deal with it when her new partner sits next to her at the lab table. Leah opens her bag, pulls out her textbook and assignment. (Her eyes land on the thick hardcover book jammed in her backpack. The thing still doesn’t leave her side. Leah’s afraid her mother will snoop through her shit if she leaves it in her room, and Leah’s afraid Ian will see it if she leaves it in her locker. And everything that Jeff wrote in it isn’t for anyone else’s eyes.)

“No fucking way!”

“Miss Jadmani,” Kreiser chastises from behind his desk, but he doesn’t look up from whatever science book he’s reading. “Language.”

Fatin ignores him and drops onto the stool next to Leah, dumping her bag onto the lab table. “We get to be lab partners!” Fatin exclaims. She grabs Leah by the shoulders and shakes her, and Leah just rolls her eyes. (Fatin is touchy-feely. It’s nothing about Leah in particular. It’s just the way Fatin is, but Leah can’t help but to feel a little special whenever Fatin makes a point of touching her arm or grabbing her shoulder – and this is only the third day they’ve really known each other.)

“If we hadn’t met at that party on Saturday, you wouldn’t be so excited about that,” Leah points out.

Fatin smiles mischievously. (Leah knows Fatin would never say anything to betray what happened between them to any random fucker in earshot, but Leah’s face still heats up.) “Yeah, you’re right,” Fatin concedes. She reapplies her lip gloss right as the final bell rings, checks the rest of her makeup with her compact mirror. (There’s the Fatin that Leah’s used to seeing.)

“We’re doing a lab today,” Kreiser says. “So get to know your new lab partner.”

Fatin leans closer and whispers, “I think we’re already acquainted.”

Leah clamps her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing loud enough to draw the entire class’s attention to the back corner of the room. “That’s not funny,” Leah hisses.

“Girl, please,” Fatin scoffs. “You almost died trying not to laugh at that.”

Kreiser slaps a thick packet of papers down on the table in front of Leah and Fatin. “Plenty to do,” he informs. “Get to work, ladies.”

*

“We totally fucked that lab up,” Fatin laughs. They walk out of biology together, and Fatin goes as far as to link their arms together, leaning into Leah for support as she laughs uncontrollably. “Like, for real, we’re probably gonna get an F.”

Leah finds herself laughing, too. (Finds herself leaning into Fatin, finds herself enjoying how close Fatin wants to be to her.) “Guess I can kiss valedictorian goodbye,” Leah replies.

“Girl, Kim Sheffield is totally gonna fuck up all those advanced classes she stacked her schedule with. She’s an idiot. You’ve got it on lock,” Fatin assures her. Leah smiles, swallows hard at the warm feeling spreading through her body. (Fucking Fatin Jadmani at a random party was a giant mistake. Fatin is and always has been a no-feelings type of girl.)

Leah just happens to glance down the hall, just happens to spot Ian in the crowd, just happens to notice that his eyes are locked on her and Fatin. (She just happens to catch the half-stunned, half-hurt look on his face.)

“Where’s your next class?” Fatin asks. Leah rips her eyes away from Ian, raises her eyebrows. “I’ll walk you.”

*

“Since when did you get all buddy-buddy with Fatin Jadmani?”

It takes two days before Ian musters up the courage to ask Leah while they’re eating lunch out on the lawn.

“We’re lab partners,” Leah dismisses. (She crams a forkful of salad into her mouth to buy herself some time while she chews.) “She’s actually not that bad at biology.”

“Fatin? Not bad at academics? That’s a miracle.”

“She’s not as shallow as you think.”

“Never thought I’d hear you defend _Fatin Jadmani_ ,” Ian mutters.

Leah shrugs, clears her throat. “She’s not that bad, actually.”

Ian shakes his head. “Who are you and what have you done with Leah Rilke?”

Leah doesn’t answer. (It’s not the first time Ian’s asked her a question like that. He knows the very basics about Jeff. Ian knows Leah had a “serious boyfriend” who “left her out of nowhere” and the boyfriend – codename “Jake,” because that’s the most generic “J” name Leah could think of on the spot – was “older.” But Ian has no idea how much older, has no idea that Leah lied to “Jake” about her age. Ian barely knows the havoc Jeff wreaked on Leah’s life when he cut her off. He just noticed how she changed on his own, but when he asked her about it, Leah dismissed it.)

“I’m allowed to have more friends, you know,” Leah mumbles.

“Yeah, obviously, but _Fatin Jadmani_?”

“You don’t have to say her full name every time, Ian. I know who she is.”

Ian scoffs. “I can’t believe it. You’re trying to make friends with the most basic bitch here.”

“Maybe I’m a basic bitch, too,” Leah retorts.

“You aren’t basic,” Ian argues.

“Well, I’m a boring bitch, then,” Leah says. “I should probably feel blessed that someone like Fatin even bothered to notice I exist, right? God, what could’ve possessed her to ever talk to a lowlife like me?”

“That’s not what I meant at all!”

“It’s what you were thinking,” Leah accuses.

Ian stares at her in disbelief. (He wants to call her crazy. Or delusional. She can see it on his face, even though he would never.) “It’s just…what could be so interesting about someone as shallow as Fatin? Haven’t you seen her? She’s always either staring at her phone or at her own reflection.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“Because you two are suddenly best friends?” Ian says. “Right? You just know everything –”

“That’s not what I said. I’m just saying, you’re judging someone you’ve never even spoken to.”

“And last week, you did exactly the same thing,” Ian points out. “So excuse me for wondering what the fuck changed between you and Fatin.”

*

Leah’s eyes pop open, and she feels like she can’t breathe. (Why does her mind do this to her? Just when she thinks she’s making progress, her subconscious fucks it all up. She hasn’t touched Jeff’s book in an entire week, hasn’t run her fingers over the notes he left just for her within the margins the way that she used to, obsessively. She’s barely even thought about him the last three days. Her mind has been a little occupied with…someone else. Which is almost worse, because it’s someone she knows she can’t have.) The dream is as clear as day in Leah’s mind, because it was mostly real. (Pieces of things and places and people that were real, not all that long ago.)

The dream showed her their usual hotel room, the scent of Jeff’s cologne clinging to the white sheets. (The dream showed her so much more, and she wants to scream, but she can’t risk disturbing her parents. They’re already watching her more closely than usual. Her rapid flip-flops in attitude has not gone unnoticed.)

Leah rolls over and grabs her phone off the nightstand. It’s just past three in the morning, and Leah dares to open her text messages. There’s nothing new there, of course, but she stares at her list of recent texts. Her eyes lock onto the one number in the list. (When she’d deleted “Hottest Bitch at School” as Fatin’s contact name, she never replaced it with anything. There’s only one other time she purposefully did not fill in a name. Maybe she should just force herself to type _Fatin Jadmani_ into her contacts.)

Leah doesn’t know what she’s thinking when she sends the text. (She’s thinking, it’s Friday night, so maybe Fatin’s awake. Probably fucking her man of the week or whatever. Leah doesn’t like the way it makes her feel when she considers the possibility of Fatin spending the night in some guy’s bed.)

**3:10 a.m.** _You up?_

God, that’s so cringey, but Leah hits send then pushes her phone to the other side of her bed, away from her. She stares up at the ceiling, trying desperately to push Jeff out of her mind. (She fails. She always fails when thoughts of him start to take hold again. She can’t just let it go. Why can’t she let it go?) The dream lingers near the surface of her thoughts, though. She slept with Jeff every opportunity she got, and her brain’s never going to let her forget it, apparently. She’s going to relive it in her dreams until the day she dies, probably.

Leah grabs her phone, bracing herself for a blank lock screen, but when she clicks it on, there’s a message waiting for her.

**510-632-7319, 3:14 a.m.** _yeah what’s up?_

Something in Leah’s chest swells, and she mentally curses herself for the sudden twisting feeling in her stomach as she types out a response.

**3:15 a.m.** _Sorry didn’t mean to sound like a rapey frat bro_

**3:15 a.m.** _Maybe this is crazy but can we meet up somewhere? Like right now_

Leah doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

**510-632-7319, 3:16 a.m.** _you think you can sneak out? because i can get you_

**3:17 a.m.** _Yeah_

**510-632-7319, 3:17 a.m.** _give me twenty_

Leah flings her covers back and fights her way into a pair of sweats. (She doesn’t bother to change her shirt, doesn’t bother to put on a bra. Nothing Fatin hasn’t seen anyway.) Leah has plenty of experience sneaking out (thanks to Jeff) and this time proves to be no special challenge. Fatin pulls up along the curb, and Leah dashes across her front lawn and all but dives into the passenger’s seat of Fatin’s fancy ass car. (Leah’s slowly getting used to being in this thing. After watching Fatin drip mayo from her sandwich onto the seatbelt and lick it off, Leah’s not so worried about defiling the car anymore.)

“Where do you want to go?” Fatin asks.

“Anywhere,” Leah replies. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she swallows hard, not sure why she’s suddenly so fucking nervous.

“Are you okay?” Fatin asks softly.

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Leah answers. She shakes her head, bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying. “I’ll explain it when you’re done driving.”

Fatin parks in the empty lot of the mostly abandoned skate park. The only light source is the one streetlight on the opposite end of the lot, and it’s just enough for Leah to be able to make out Fatin’s face. Even though Leah said she’d explain when they parked, Fatin waits for Leah to begin, doesn’t push her. Just sits with her.

“It’s embarrassing,” Leah finally says.

“How bad can it be?” Fatin says, her tone lightly teasing. “I’ve done plenty of embarrassing things, right? You know there’s no judgment here.”

Leah hesitates. “I’ve never told anyone else this.”

“Not even your – Ian?”

(Leah’s a little surprised Fatin remembered his name.)

“He knows, like, very vague information.”

Fatin nods, and Leah takes a moment to look her over. She’s dressed up, more than she would be if she’d been sitting at home, probably. Leah grimaces, knowing she definitely pulled Fatin away from a night out. (Whether it was a night out with some guy or whether it was something else, Leah doesn’t dare to ask.) Leah’s sitting in an expensive ass car in an old blue T-shirt, sweatpants, and beat-up sneakers, and Fatin’s wearing a jacket with a pattern Leah can’t quite make out left unzipped over a flashy bra (or maybe it counts as a shirt? Sure as hell looks like a bra) with high-waisted shorts (and probably heels, but Leah can’t tell). Fatin’s makeup is flawlessly done. Her nails are painted white (and yesterday at school, they were seafoam green). Her hair falls in gentle waves past her shoulders, and there are massive hoops in her ears. Yeah, Fatin was definitely out and doing something when Leah texted her. (Leah almost feels the need to apologize for ruining her night.)

“Leah, what’s this about?” Fatin finally asks after the silence extends for over a minute while Leah (checks Fatin out) stares.

“You know how you knew someone fucked me up? You said something about knowing heartbreak when you see it?”

“Yeah.”

Leah exhales heavily, and then it all comes spilling out. Everything. Even his fucking name.

“Wait. Galanis? Like – oh my _God_ , no. Leah, no,” Fatin gasps. “Don’t tell me it’s that prick that wrote that one book we were assigned in English.”

Leah winces, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Kind of?” Leah says. Fatin reaches over, grabs onto Leah’s forearm. Leah meets Fatin’s gaze, but for once, Fatin seems to be at a loss for words. “That bad, huh?” Leah scoffs.

“Sorry, I’m just – very caught off guard. I never would’ve guessed.”

“Because I’m that boring?”

“No, because it’s – I don’t know, maybe it’s not my place to say that.”

“Say what?” Leah mutters. “Just hit me with it.”

“It’s pretty fucked up, Leah. I mean, he like, took advantage of you.”

“I lied to him.”

“But still,” Fatin presses. Her grip tightens on Leah’s arm briefly, drawing Leah’s eyes back to Fatin’s face. “He knew you were young. Exact age doesn’t matter. He knew you were in _high school_ , since he came to preach to us about chasing our dreams or whatever.” Fatin’s hand slips off of Leah’s arm as she leans back, lets out a low whistle. “That’s some shit, Rilke.”

“I just – I can’t let it go. I can’t let him go. I don’t know how to stop.”

“You loved him,” Fatin says. And it’s not a question. It’s just a statement. (Fatin isn’t questioning what Leah told her she felt, not at all. All Ian did was ask questions, pry for more information. To be fair, Leah gave him next to nothing – didn’t even give him a real name, knowing he’d figure it out immediately. And Leah couldn’t help but feel like Ian had some ulterior motive, but she might just be crazy. She’s starting to wonder.)

“Yeah.”

“Love will fuck you up,” Fatin says. “That’s why I don’t do _love_.”

(That shouldn’t sting, but it kind of does.)

“You don’t think he loved me, do you?” Leah questions.

“Never said that,” Fatin replies. “I can’t know what he felt for sure, of course, but I bet you he was head over heels. It’s just really unfortunate that that makes him a fucking –” Fatin cuts herself off sharply. “Sorry. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what he did isn’t okay, right?” Fatin asks. “Like seriously.”

“He didn’t know –”

“Doesn’t matter. He knew enough.”

Leah shakes her head. Her fingers tap incessantly against her knee until Fatin reaches over, gently wraps her fingers around Leah’s hand, pulling it toward her. Fatin lets their hands rest on the center console, fingers tangling together. (Fatin mindlessly draws patterns into Leah’s palm with her fingertip, and Leah tries not to think about how her stomach is doing all sorts of flips.)

“I’m sorry,” Leah finally mumbles. “I know I dragged you away from something more –”

“More what? Important?” Fatin snorts. “No, not at all. I was more than happy to have a reason to get out of there.”

“You got dressed up for a reason.”

Fatin laughs, rolls her eyes. “Ended up not being worth it.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious,” Fatin says. “Everyone there was giving off, like, total creeper vibes.”

“You know, I really wish your advice would’ve worked,” Leah says.

“Hmm? What advice?”

“At the party. Your advice was to fuck someone else to get over – well, you didn’t know it was Jeffrey Galanis, but still. And well, I fucked someone,” Leah says, closing her fingers around Fatin’s hand. (Leah really doesn’t want to think about Fatin’s fingers right now, but she’s sitting here, staring at them resting in her own hand.) “And I haven’t been completely fixed or whatever.”

“If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have said that,” Fatin says. “And I never said it was an infallible method.”

“Still. I wish it would’ve worked. It’d make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

There’s a long pause before Fatin suggests, “Well, you could try again?”

Leah busts out laughing, and Fatin grins widely. “You’re an asshole,” Leah struggles to say between fits of laughter.

“Okay, but I was being, like, 70% serious,” Fatin giggles.

“You’re gonna fuck me in your million-dollar car?”

“The car didn’t cost a million dollars,” Fatin dismisses. “And I’m totally _willing_ to fuck you in a car. In this car. Just so you know.”

Fatin squeezes Leah’s hand, and Leah knows Fatin is both joking and dead serious at the same time. She’s waiting for Leah to decide which one it is. (Leah doesn’t need much time to decide. The dream about Jeff, as emotionally painful as it was, also left her hornier than she’ll ever admit.) Fatin’s face lights up in the moment it takes Leah to lean over to bring their lips together. They didn’t really kiss much that first night at the party. Watching Fatin take charge and drag Leah's jeans down to her ankles before pushing Leah back to the bed was more than enough to get Leah going. (But they did kiss after Leah came on Fatin’s face – the second time. It’s only polite.)

Fatin kisses Leah eagerly, releases Leah’s hand to place her palm against the side of Leah’s neck. Fatin wastes no time slipping her tongue into Leah’s mouth, sliding her hand from Leah’s neck to her chest. Fatin hums appreciatively against Leah’s mouth when she discovers Leah didn’t bother with a bra. Leah groans in protest when Fatin pulls back, but Fatin shushes her, reaching down to remove her shoes.

“Slide your seat back,” Fatin orders, and Leah complies, slides it back as far as it’ll go, lowers the back of the seat so it’s flat. Leah props herself up on her elbows, watching Fatin. Fatin ditches her shoes and the jacket before she hauls herself across the center console and plants her knees on either side of Leah’s legs, straddling her.

“How are we –?”

“Shh,” Fatin says. “You let me handle the logistics.”

Fatin easily lifts Leah’s shirt over her head, tosses it onto the empty driver’s seat. (Leah wants to memorize the look on Fatin’s face as her eyes travel down Leah’s torso, as Fatin’s fingers pull at the drawstring of Leah’s sweats.) Fatin plants her hand against the center of Leah’s chest, pushing her down onto her back (on expensive leather seats). Fatin follows after Leah, bracing most of her weight against her arm next to Leah’s head, Fatin’s hair falling around them. Fatin’s lips are mere inches from Leah’s, and Leah’s already breathing raggedly. (Leah is hyperaware of how Fatin’s hand is pressed against her lower stomach, fingertips just dipping beneath the band of her sweats.)

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Fatin murmurs.

“Make me forget him.”

Fatin’s lips press to Leah’s jaw, then shift towards Leah’s ear. Her teeth scrape against Leah’s earlobe at the same time that her hand slides into Leah’s panties to find that Leah’s already embarrassingly wet. Leah instinctively arches into Fatin’s touch, moaning as Fatin inhales sharply next to Leah’s ear.

“I think I can make that happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments, and I'll respond as soon as possible!


	3. Chapter 3

It doesn’t become a thing, but Leah doesn’t know how else to describe it. But they fall into something like a routine. They’re friends in biology class – but only biology class. (They don’t see each other at school outside of biology, except sometimes on Sundays. Leah eats lunch with Ian. Fatin eats lunch with her friends – and she _does_ have friends; Leah spots them eating on the lawn one day and just hopes to God that Ian doesn’t recognize Fatin from this far away. But Leah and Fatin also don’t ever make plans to meet up during study hall, or after school, or before school.) They are strictly outside of school…fuck buddies? (They’re friends in biology, only because they aren’t allowed to be fuck buddies in biology class.)

Friday and Saturday nights start to go the same way. Friday nights, Leah sneaks out (or she can get out by asking for permission, if it’s no later than ten p.m.) and disappears into Fatin’s car. And they always fuck on Friday nights. (Sometimes they talk first, anything from bitching about school or their parents to Leah confessing that even though Jeff has been gone for almost two months, she still can’t get over it. Sometimes they don’t talk, go straight to making out, fingers fumbling with bra clasps or buttons. But no matter what, they always end up fucking.) It’s not always in Fatin’s car (but sometimes, they have no better option. Leah doesn’t mind. They’re starting to get very creative). And Saturday nights, they go to parties together, and sometimes they fuck at the party, too. (Other times, Leah comes to learn, Fatin finds herself a man, and the longer their routine carries on, the more Leah finds herself struggling to accept this reality.)

One night, Fatin tells Leah she’s taking her to her place.

“My parents took my brothers with them on their vacation,” Fatin says.

“And you didn’t go?”

Fatin laughs then grins at Leah in a way that always makes Leah feel (ridiculously) special. “All I had to do was say I want to spend the week practicing the cello, and they didn’t ask any questions.”

And when Leah lays eyes on Fatin’s house…well, she realizes she really doesn’t know much about Fatin at all. (And Fatin knows most of Leah’s inner demons. Not all of them, but Leah’s starting to think Fatin’s a lot more perceptive than she’s given credit for.) Fatin drops her key ring on the counter as Leah’s eyes wander. Everything is impeccable, like this place isn’t even lived in. (Except it obviously is.)

“My room’s this way,” Fatin calls over her shoulder. Leah’s still too stunned to speak, just nods and follows after Fatin. She doesn’t know what to expect Fatin’s room to be like, but it’s tastefully decorated, very neatly organized. The bed is made (Leah can’t remember the last time she made her own bed). Fatin kicks the door shut behind them, pulls the curtains, then says, “I want to try something new. If you’re down.”

“I – yeah.”

“Seriously, tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Leah says. (Even this far into their informal arrangement, Fatin always makes sure to remind Leah she can always back out.) She takes a seat on the edge of Fatin’s bed as Fatin rummages through one of her drawers. She unexpectedly throws something in Leah’s direction, and Leah manages to catch it without realizing what it is at first. “Oh my God,” Leah laughs. She points the dildo at Fatin and asks, “Did you throw this at me because you want me to –?”

“Oh, no, I’m definitely using it on you,” Fatin interrupts. “If you’re down.”

“God, yes.”

(And before the night’s even over, while Fatin’s hips are still rocking into Leah’s, while Leah’s still clutching at Fatin’s back, Leah realizes this is going to be one of those nights that’ll be engrained in her mind forever. And she’s fucked Fatin many times before this, but this night – this night feels different.)

“You know,” Fatin says, blowing smoke off to the side before handing the joint back to Leah. They both lie side by side, shoulders and arms and hips pressed together, Fatin’s hand resting on Leah’s upper thigh, both still shamelessly naked. “I don’t normally fuck anyone in my own bed.”

Leah chokes on smoke, and Fatin rolls her head toward Leah, smiling in a way that Leah might describe as _endearing_. (But maybe she’s just high.) “What?” Leah says, eyes watering.

“Yeah. I mean, my family is home half the time, you know?”

“Oh, right.”

(That makes sense, but Leah can’t help but to feel like it means something more, the fact that she’s one of the few – maybe only – people Fatin has ever fucked in her own bed.)

When it becomes clear that Fatin’s not interested in taking Leah home, Leah texts her mom to let her know she’s spending the night at a “friend’s” house. (And her mom seems very pleased to hear that, given how Leah’s had quite the rollercoaster of emotions in the last few months.) Leah doesn’t remember deciding to sleep, but she wakes up with her head resting beneath Fatin’s chin, her fingers splayed across Fatin’s bare hip. Fatin’s still asleep, chest steadily rising and falling, her arm slung loosely around Leah’s back. (And Leah really shouldn’t read too far into this moment, but nothing like this has ever happened before.)

When Fatin wakes up, yawning, she rolls out of bed and starts pulling clothes on, throws clothing Leah’s way before she says, “I’m not taking you home. You can just borrow some of my stuff.”

(Fatin cooks breakfast, even though it’s almost two in the afternoon. She tells Leah to make herself at home, and they spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around on the couch in front of the massive flatscreen, watching everything from baking shows to a few episodes of _Survivor_ to serious documentaries. Leah spreads herself across the couch, laying her head in Fatin’s lap, and she struggles not to doze off as Fatin combs her fingers through her hair, absently braiding locks of Leah’s hair then undoing it before starting again.)

They go to a party that night, like every Saturday night, and Leah just kind of expects Fatin to drag her into a bedroom (or into the bathroom, or even behind a fucking bush in the backyard) before long. It stings _way_ more than it should when Leah catches sight of Fatin leading some tall, broad-shouldered blonde guy in a muscle tee up the stairs. ( _We’re not a thing_ , Leah has to remind herself. _We’re not in a relationship. We’re barely friends. You have no right to be jealous_.) But still, it hurts, especially after last night (and how they spent all of today, up until right now.) Her first hint that she wouldn’t be spending tonight with Fatin, though, should’ve been when Fatin slapped her keys into Leah’s hand and asked her to _keep them safe for me_.

“Leah?”

Leah jumps and whips around, eyes widening when she sees Ian standing there with his hands jammed into his pockets. “What are you doing here?” she blurts.

“You haven’t been answering my texts,” Ian says. “But I didn’t track you here, I swear. I just – had to find something to do, now that we barely see each other.”

“Oh.”

“Why are _you_ here?” he questions. He glances around. “Are you by yourself?”

Leah falters. “Um, no, I – I came with Fatin, but she’s…busy.”

“Right,” he says. “Fatin.”

(Leah’s only told him that she’s friends with Fatin. He doesn’t need to know anything more than that. But still, he worked out that Fatin is the person Leah spends most of her time with, or texting, or even just thinking about. He’s not an idiot.)

“I know you don’t really care for her,” Leah says.

“I don’t really know her. I guess you proved that to me,” Ian replies.

“I’m not sure I really know her, either,” Leah admits. “Maybe not as well as I thought I did.”

Ian nods, starts to walk away, but Leah catches his wrist. “What?” he says.

“You don’t have to – I mean, we could catch up? I’ll get us drinks.”

*

They sit in the grass in the backyard, cross-legged, sipping cheap beer out of red solo cups. Leah’s phone rests on her thigh, and she tries her hardest not to stare at it, hoping it’ll light up.

“You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you?” Ian asks.

“What thing?”

“The thing you did when you were with Jake,” he says bluntly. “You couldn’t put your phone away then, either. You were always waiting for something.” (Obsessing over him, Ian means to say, but he doesn’t. Leah still sees the words written on his face. He’s accusing her of obsessing over Fatin, even though he doesn’t know it.)

“I’m not waiting for anything,” Leah lies. (She tries not to think about how Fatin’s just inside, up the stairs, fucking some guy whose name she probably doesn’t even know.)

“Just Fatin,” Ian comments offhandedly before finishing off the contents of his cup. He throws it off to the side then stretches out, leaning back against his hands, spreading his legs out ahead of him. He nudges Leah’s knee with his foot. “I mean, that’s why you’re sitting here with me, right? She’s your ride.”

Leah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she’s my ride, but I’m sitting here with you because I want to. Try not to sound so jealous, Ian.” (She’s one to talk.)

“Me? Jealous of Fatin Jadmani?” he laughs. “Never. But her parents are loaded, I’ve heard, so maybe I’m just a tiny bit jealous.”

Leah rolls her eyes, can’t help but to smile a little. (As much as most of her life has become consumed by _Fatin, Fatin, Fatin_ , she misses seeing Ian as much as she used to. Now, it’s mostly just at lunch or right before school starts.) “God, I’m not drunk enough for this,” Leah says.

Ian jumps to his feet. “I’ll get more beer,” he offers, and they drink until they’re so drunk, Leah can barely keep herself sitting upright. (And for an hour or so, Leah doesn’t think about Fatin or Jeff, at least not until her phone buzzes.) Leah tears her eyes away from Ian to glance down at the phone sitting in the grass beside her. She lifts it up and squints at the message waiting for her.

**510-632-7319, 12:34 a.m.** _hey wya?_

“Is it your _boyfriend_?” Ian mocks. He falls back into the grass laughing as Leah tells him to _shut the fuck up_ and _no, it’s not my boyfriend_ and _I don’t even have a boyfriend, you dick_. “Oh, then it’s Fatin,” he says. “Your _girlfriend_.”

It’s a joke, but Leah’s mouth still goes dry. “She’s not my girlfriend,” she mumbles. Leah types out one word, realizes she completely fucked it up, but sends it anyway.

**12:35 a.m.** _bsckyrrd_

Fatin will figure it out. In the meantime, Leah scrolls up on their messages, even though her vision’s getting a little blurry. Their last conversation, which happened before their usual Friday fuck-session, is embarrassingly dirty, and Leah wonders when they started sexting.

“What does Fatin want?” Ian asks, slapping his hands against the grass. “Can’t she see we’re busy?”

“She just asked where I’m at,” Leah answers. “And no, she can’t see we’re busy, because she isn’t here.”

“Right, right, I forgot,” Ian giggles. “Is the world spinning a little?”

“You’re just drunk, you fucking lightweight,” Leah laughs. “We should get you some water. When I figure out how to stand up.”

“Hey-oh!” Fatin says at the same time that she grabs onto Leah’s shoulders from behind. Leah startles so badly, her (unlocked) phone goes flying out of her hand toward Ian. “What’s going on, Rilke?”

“Jesus Christ!” Leah exclaims. Fatin laughs, and Leah shoves her hands away. Leah crawls over to reclaim her phone (before Ian can do something stupid, like read all the dirty text messages Leah has sitting open, and even though she doesn’t have Fatin’s number saved, she doesn’t want to answer any of Ian’s questions). Leah locks her phone and jams it into her pocket.

“You look like you’ve enjoyed your night,” Fatin comments. When Ian lifts his head and stares up at Fatin, Fatin finally says, “Ian, good to see you.”

“Fatin,” he replies. “I see you.”

Fatin nods, lips parted. “Right. You both are drunk as shit, aren’t you?”

“What was your first clue?” Leah deadpans. Leah’s eyes lock onto Fatin’s face, take in the post-orgasm glow that Leah’s used to seeing after _they_ spend the night together. (Leah struggles to swallow down the jealousy rising in her throat.)

“Alright, let’s get you up,” Fatin says. She holds her hands out, and Leah only barely holds back a bitchy comments. ( _I think I know where your hands have been, and I’d rather not touch them right now, please._ ) Leah grasps onto Fatin’s wrists and allows Fatin to haul her up. (She’s a lot less steady than she expected, and Leah stumbles a bit, but Fatin’s grasp is firm.) “You good?” Fatin asks, and her voice is so soft, it almost makes Leah want to burst into tears.

“Fine,” Leah grumbles. She finally pulls her hands free, closes her eyes and tries to make the earth beneath her shoes feel more stable. “Ian?”

“I can get up,” Ian says, and he does, so maybe he’s less drunk than Leah thought.

“Do you have a way to get home?” Fatin asks him.

He waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about me, Leah’s New Best Friend. I got my ride arranged.” He pulls out his phone and points at multiple ride sharing apps before selecting one.

“My name’s Fatin, actually,” Fatin says wryly.

“Yeah, we all know who you are,” Ian replies.

“I can’t go home drunk,” Leah blurts. “My mother will kill me.”

Ian opens his mouth, but Fatin beats him to it and says, “You can crash at my place. No big deal. I’m your ride, anyway.”

“Are you sober?” Ian questions.

“100%,” Fatin answers. Her hands land on Leah’s shoulders again, thumbs pressing against the back of Leah’s neck. (And Leah relaxes a little.) “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Leah, okay?”

“Yeah, I bet you will,” Ian mutters. His phone chimes, and he exclaims, “Shit! That was fast.” He pauses and points a finger at Fatin. “Don’t you hurt her now.”

Fatin’s eyebrows pull together, but she says, “I won’t.”

Ian nods a few times, says, “Goodnight, Lee. Catch you later,” then staggers off toward the street where his ride’s waiting.

“Come on,” Fatin says, squeezing Leah’s shoulders. “We should get you some water before we go.”

Leah shakes Fatin’s hands off her, mutters, “Yeah, okay,” and leads the way back inside. As they stand in the kitchen while Leah chugs water, the tall blonde guy in the muscle tee strolls in to refill his cup. He grins when his eyes land on Fatin, and his eyes slowly shift over to Leah. He nods in approval then fills his cup.

“Fatin,” he greets.

“Hmm, hey,” Fatin says. (And to Leah’s great pleasure, Fatin doesn’t seem particularly interested. But even better, Leah’s theory was right: Fatin doesn’t know his name.)

“You know, we were going to set up a game of –”

“We’d love to, but we really have to get going now,” Fatin cuts in. She flashes him her boy-manipulating smile and grabs Leah’s hand. “Maybe next time,” Fatin says. She touches her fingertips to his chest, and he takes a step back, allowing Fatin to slip past him, pulling Leah with her.

“Not interested in a game of whatever with your man of the week?” Leah dares to ask. (She chucks the empty water bottle over her shoulder, hears it clatter on the cement of the front porch.)

“God, no,” Fatin scoffs. “I’m not trying to get to know him. I already got what I wanted.”

Leah’s blood boils, silently, and she just grunts in response. She doesn’t remember where Fatin parked, and Fatin doesn’t release her hand, content to lead the way with Leah trailing only slightly behind her. When they reach the car (Leah’s had more orgasms than she can count in this car – that’s the thought that runs through Leah’s mind when she lays eyes on it), Leah stands next to the passenger’s side and waits for Fatin to unlock it. Fatin stands on the opposite side, patting herself down.

“Fuck, where are my keys?”

Then Leah remembers, and she pulls them out of her pocket, lets them dangle off the edge of her finger as Fatin stares at her. “You left them with me, remember?” Leah says as Fatin makes her way around to the other side of the car to retrieve the keys. “Probably not your best idea ever.”

“No, probably not,” Fatin agrees. She takes the keys from Leah, gently, and for a long moment, they stand on the curb, staring at each other. (Leah hates when she has to stare up at Fatin, thanks to her heels. Leah would wear heels if she wasn’t so sure she’d eat shit if she tried.) “You alright?” Fatin asks softly. Her eyes don’t leave Leah’s, and even in Leah’s half-drunken state, she can see the concern laced into Fatin’s features, shining in Fatin’s eyes. “Rilke?” Fatin presses. “Can you hear me?”

(Sober Leah wouldn’t act like this, but Sober Leah is still a few hours away.)

Leah grabs Fatin by the hips, pulls her closer at the same time that Leah leans up (fucking heels) to capture Fatin’s lips with her own. Fatin still holds the keys in one hand, but her other hand comes to rest gently against Leah’s lower back. Leah holds onto Fatin’s hips to keep herself from falling (either into the grass or into the car). And for some reason, the worst part of all, is that Fatin lets Leah kiss her. Fatin doesn’t pull away, like maybe she should, doesn’t tell Leah to stop, doesn’t say there’s no reason for them to be standing on the curb (next to Fatin’s car, in a place where anyone could see them) making out. It isn’t until Leah’s hands slide from Fatin’s hips up beneath her shirt that Fatin puts her hand against Leah’s chest, gently nudges her back.

“Leah,” Fatin breathes.

“Don’t.”

Fatin nods, teeth sinking into her lower lip. She wants to say something, but Leah takes the keys from her and unlocks the door herself, disappearing into the car while Fatin’s still standing on the curb. By the time Fatin makes her way around and gets behind the wheel, Leah’s got her face in her hands, body shaking.

“Leah,” Fatin says quietly. She starts to reach out but thinks better of it. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Leah says between sobs. “Just – don’t.”

“Okay.”

(How can she _not_ know? How can Fatin _not_ see it? Leah cries most of the way back to Fatin’s house because she knows, without any doubt, that she’s caught feelings, and she knows that Fatin has not and will not. Because Fatin does not do feelings. And Leah was stupid enough to –)

“Why’d you let me do that?” Leah asks once she’s pulled herself together. By that time, they’re pulling into Fatin’s driveway.

“What?” Fatin says.

“Why did you let me kiss you, like, twenty minutes ago?”

Fatin shrugs. “You wanted to.”

“You didn’t have to let me –”

“Leah,” Fatin cuts in. She parks the car, shuts it off, and turns in her seat to face Leah. “It’s cool,” Fatin says. Fatin swipes the remaining dampness from Leah’s cheeks with her fingertips, and it’s a gesture that’s so tender, it’s almost enough to get more tears flowing. Fatin gets out of the car, goes around to help Leah get out and walk inside (even though she’s really not in danger of falling over anymore). “You should shower,” Fatin suggests. “You can borrow something to sleep in, okay?”

Once she’s alone in the bathroom, Leah texts her mother that she’s spending the night with a friend again, and her mother’s reply is too enthusiastic.

**Mother Dear, 1:48 a.m.** _Have fun!!!_

*

Leah wakes up, hungover, in a bed that isn’t hers, pressed flush against another body. She groans, tries to pull away and finds herself stuck. Fatin’s arms are locked around her, Leah’s face smashed into Fatin’s chest, and she can’t move. She tries to remember how she got like this.

(Oh, God. She started crying again once she got out of the shower. Well, really, it started while she was in the shower, and then too much time passed, and she knew Fatin would break the door down to see what the fuck was up, so Leah got out with tears still streaming down her face and tried to get it together and –)

Fatin held her the rest of the night, and Leah passed out due to exhaustion somewhere around four in the morning. (And Fatin was still up, rubbing soothing circles into Leah’s back, somehow knowing it was better to say nothing than to talk.)

Leah breaks Fatin’s hold on her then pauses to see if it causes Fatin to stir. When it doesn’t, she works on wiggling her legs free then rolls off the bed. She swaps the clothes Fatin let her borrow for her own (the ones she’d worn, what? Two days ago? Leah’s days are blending together) and rushes out to the kitchen. She grabs her bag off the counter, slings it over her shoulder, and digs her phone out of her pocket.

“Hey,” Leah says as she steps out onto the driveway, walking briskly toward the sidewalk. “I’m just leaving Fatin’s. Do you think you could come get me? Or are you too hungover to drive?”

“No, I’ll be there. Where should I meet you?”

“Um, how about the corner of Leighton and Parker?”

“Got it. See you in ten.”

Ian rolls up in his junker car exactly ten minutes later, and Leah all but throws herself into the passenger’s seat.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” she replies.

“You look like shit,” he says. “No offense.”

Leah sighs, pushes her hands into her hair. “No, I know I do.”

“Just going home?”

(It’s Sunday, and on Sundays, Leah and Fatin sometimes act like real friends and grab lunch or shop or just walk around downtown and hang out in parks.)

“Yeah,” Leah says.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ian asks. “You look a little…”

“I’m just hungover.”

“Right. Did something happen?”

(That’s a loaded question. A lot of things happened. A lot of things didn’t happen. Leah wouldn’t know where to start.)

“You know I’m bi, right?” Leah blurts. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I ever actually said that to you.”

Ian laughs. “I know,” he says. “Hannah Wright made sure everyone knew before she fucked off. And no, you never officially told me, but I just assumed.”

“I have a crush on Fatin. Actually, it’s a whole lot more complicated than that, but – I just had to get away from there for now.”

“Shit,” Ian breathes. “Okay. It’s all starting to make sense now.”

“Stop,” Leah tells him. She pulls her knees up to her chest, disregards the fact that she never bothered to put a seatbelt on, and Ian’s driving is shitty on a good day. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, maybe she’s –”

“She’s not into me, too,” Leah finishes for him. “Fatin doesn’t do feelings.”

“Have you asked?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

Leah ignores that comment. Ian pulls into her driveway, and she steps out, turning back just long enough to say, “Tell anyone what I just told you, and I’ll cut your balls off.”

Ian smiles. “Understood.”

*

**510-632-7319, 1:52 p.m.** _did you leave?_

**510-632-7319, 1:58 p.m.** _okay obviously you left but you could’ve at least told me_

**510-632-7319, 2:17 p.m.** _you could at least text me back_

**510-632-7319, 3:36 p.m.** _not cool leah_

*

Leah can only avoid Fatin until biology on Monday. And even then, she doesn’t really feel like she’s avoiding Fatin. She may not be responding to her texts, or to the memes Fatin DMs her on Instagram, or to her snaps, but Leah’s thoughts are about Fatin more often than not. (Leah hasn’t decided if this is better or worse in comparison to when she thought about Jeff obsessively instead. And now, hilariously, if she starts to think about Jeff, Leah’s thoughts usually turn to Fatin before long. She guesses fucking someone else really _is_ a good way to move on, as long as you do it so much that it makes you catch feelings.)

Fatin dumps her bag on the lab counter, as always, and she drops down onto the stool beside Leah, as always, and then she says, “Glad to see you aren’t dead.”

“Why would I be dead?”

Fatin shrugs. “The unusual radio silence from you made me think maybe you walked home and got hit by a car, and I just didn’t happen to catch it on the news, because who watches the news?”

“Ian drove me home.”

“Well, you could’ve fucking texted that, and I would’ve left you alone if you would’ve just fucking said so.”

Leah balks, eyebrows raising. Fatin’s voice is loud enough to draw a few stares from their classmates around the room, but luckily, most of the other students haven’t arrived yet. (They still have five minutes before the final bell.)

“Sorry,” Leah says. “I…had a lot on my mind.”

Fatin hums. “Next time, just say that, okay? So I don’t have to make a scene in biology.”

“Yeah.”

And just like that, they’re back to normal. (Well, as normal as they get, especially now that Leah is consciously aware of her feelings for Fatin.)

*

**510-632-7319, 2:41 a.m.** _you up?_

Leah stirs, thanks to her phone buzzing next to her head. (She doesn’t remember falling asleep with her phone on her pillow next to her face, but here she is.)

**2:42 a.m.** _I am now why?_

**510-632-7319, 2:42 a.m.** _oops sorry_

**510-632-7319, 2:43 a.m.** _honestly idk sorry_

**2:43 a.m.** _Overthinking’s my thing, not yours_

**2:43 a.m.** _So just say it_

**2:43 a.m.** _You usually do anyway_

**510-632-7319, 2:44 a.m.** _i’m gonna be there in ten_

*

Leah watches from her window for Fatin’s car to roll up to the curb before she makes a quiet exit. (She’s put quite a bit of thought into what she’d say if her parents ever caught her, but so far, they haven’t. Or if they’re aware that she disappears in the middle of the night, they’ve never brought it up. And they haven’t pried too much into her friendship with Fatin. All they really know is her name, and Leah made sure to tell them Fatin’s going to Juilliard so they don’t ask too many more questions. They just seem to be happy that Leah gets out of the house again.)

The _you up?_ text is more than confusing. (It, up until this point, has always meant the same thing and has only come on Friday nights. It’s like an inside joke, even though it means exactly what most people would assume. _Are we gonna fuck tonight_ is just way too much to type out.) It’s technically Friday, but they still have to go through a whole day of school before the text usually comes, which is why Leah only saw the text by total chance before the sun rose.

“This better be good,” Leah says before she’s even fully sitting in Fatin’s car. “I have a test second period, and I was already going to fail, but I’m totally failing now that I’m awake at, what is it, three a.m.? Yeah, three, so what’s –?”

And just like that, the rest of Leah’s sentence is smothered by Fatin’s lips. Leah makes a small, almost strangled, sound in the back of her throat, automatically kissing Fatin back. It takes Leah a moment to come back to herself, and she nudges Fatin back enough to break the kiss. (Well, no, that’s not entirely accurate. Leah presses her fingertips against the center of Fatin’s chest, but she doesn’t take the hint and move back, so Leah has to put a little more force into it, has to use her entire palm before Fatin reluctantly shifts away.)

“What is going on?” Leah asks, dumbfounded. “It’s – it’s Friday, but like, we are going into Friday _morning_ right now. This shouldn’t be happening until tonight. Did I lose track of time somewhere?”

“Can you just – can we just do this?” Fatin asks, and Leah’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline.

“Did something happen?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Leah nods. “Yeah, um, okay.”

“Wait. Don’t let me pressure you into anything –”

“Fatin, shut up.” Leah takes Fatin’s face in her hands, gently, and pretends like she doesn’t notice that Fatin’s eyes are shinier than usual. “It’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, my friends! Hope you enjoy it, and I should have another Leatin fic on the way soon!

Leah doesn’t find out what that was all about. Not in biology on Friday. (And Leah totally bombed her test in second period. Totally. Not only that, but she accidentally slept through her alarm _and_ 80% of first period. Worth it, though.) Not after school. Not when Leah texts Fatin _what was last night about_ that night. Instead of receiving an answer for her question, she receives the usual.

**510-632-7319, 9:27 p.m.** _you up?_

Leah sighs.

**9:28 p.m.** _It’d be weird if I wasn’t, considering it’s 9:30 pm_

**510-632-7319, 9:30 p.m.** _actually right now it’s 9:30 pm_

**510-632-7319, 9:30 p.m.** _so we still on like usual?_

Leah gnaws on her lower lip. The idea’s as tempting as it always is, and it’s early enough to just ask her parents to go out. She doesn’t move from her spot on her bed, though, laptop open with Netflix paused.

**9:32 p.m.** _sorry, period came early_

It didn’t, but Fatin doesn’t know that. (Leah will just say it started during school if she’s asked. Her actual period is still two days out, so it’s not like a major thing that’ll come back to bite Leah in the ass.) But her and Fatin are on totally opposite cycles, so technically, Leah could still go fuck Fatin. (But she still hasn’t gotten an answer to her question.)

**510-632-7319, 9:33 p.m.** _well fuck there goes my dinner plans_

And now Leah feels bad about lying. (And now she’s got images of Fatin’s face between her legs running through her mind and she _totally_ should not have busted out the period lie in order to finish the movie she started on Netflix.)

**510-632-7319, 9:34 p.m.** _might want to tell your parents i’m coming over_

Leah’s eyes widen. She snaps her laptop shut and jumps up. “Mom!” she shouts down the hall. “Fatin’s coming over!”

“That’s wonderful,” her mom replies from somewhere downstairs. Probably the living room. (Her parents usually spend their last hour awake watching TV and are in bed by ten, every night. Leah’s kind of bored for them.) “Is she staying the night?” her mom calls.

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, well, you know how to be a good host,” her mom says. Leah rolls her eyes but agrees. Her parents go to bed early; their door closes less than a minute before Fatin knocks on the front door and Leah has to rush to get it before her mother decides to make an appearance. (Part of Leah can’t help but wonder if her mom would like Fatin, if they ever got to spend, like, more than five seconds around each other.) As usual, Leah whisks Fatin away from any area that her parents could pop in, which means they end up locked in Leah’s room. Her laptop’s still lying shut in the center of her bed.

“Netflix night?” Fatin asks.

“I mean…that’s what I was doing,” Leah admits. “And, um, normally I’d be totally fine still fucking you, but my parents would hear us…and I’m kinda just not in the mood.”

Fatin laughs. “You’re off the hook this week,” she assures Leah. Fatin throws herself down on one side of Leah’s bed without seeking permission, pulls the covers up to her lap and pats the space beside her. “Come on. We’ll finish whatever you’re watching.”

Leah’s eyebrows pull together. This is, like, a friend thing. And they still don’t really _do_ friend things, unless it’s Sunday, biology class, or sometimes right after they’ve fucked. But there’s no fucking, and it’s Friday, so…Leah isn’t quite sure why Fatin is _here_.

“No offense,” Leah says, “but why are you here?”

Fatin sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. “It’s a long fucking story, Rilke, and I don’t really want to relive it all right now.”

Leah hooks her thumbs through her belt loops, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Does it have something to do with the reason why we fucked on a Friday morning before the sun rose?”

“Yeah.”

“And you won’t tell me?”

Fatin’s expression is entirely unreadable. Like, Leah can’t even take a guess at what that look on Fatin’s face might mean. But mostly, Fatin’s eyes look blank, like she’s spaced out momentarily. “Not yet,” Fatin says. She pats the bed again. “Come on. We can cuddle.”

“Isn’t that a little gay?” Leah teases.

Fatin’s eyes roll. “Please. I’ve been inside you. I’m pretty sure cuddling isn’t going to make us any gayer than we already are.”

“You know, I’m not actually gay,” Leah says as she slips under the covers on the other side of the bed and logs back into her laptop.

“Yeah, me either.”

They both stifle laughs into their hands. Leah nudges her laptop toward Fatin. “You pick,” she says. “I chose last time.”

(The fact that Leah remembers she chose their movie last time becomes embarrassing to her moments after the words leave her mouth, when she realizes _last time_ was _last week_. Fatin doesn’t question her, though, just starts digging for a movie.)

“How do you feel about horror?” Fatin asks.

“I feel like I’m going to scream and scare my mother to death. She’ll probably come running in here with the baseball bat.”

Fatin snorts and selects a horror movie. “Don’t worry, baby,” Fatin teases, wrapping an arm around Leah’s shoulders and pulling Leah into her. “I’ll protect you.”

“Asshole,” Leah mutters into Fatin’s neck, and that gets Fatin to snort again. Leah, thankfully, does not scream at any point during the movie, because it ends up being shitty and actually kind of hilarious. Leah, also, does not see the end of the movie, because she falls asleep halfway through and wakes up in the middle of the night with her head in Fatin’s lap, Fatin’s hand resting in her hair. Fatin’s asleep, too, leaning back against the headboard. (And somehow, this feels more intimate than all of the sex-related things they’ve done together.)

*

When Leah wakes up in the morning, her bed is empty (but her sheets still smell like Fatin). When Leah lifts her head, squinting towards the window, she realizes Fatin’s car is still parked along the curb, and Leah’s first thought is, _oh shit_. She leaps out of bed, forgetting the fact that she’s still wearing only panties and an oversized sweatshirt, and Leah nearly falls down the stairs on her way to discover her mother sitting at the kitchen table with Fatin.

“Good morning,” Fatin says brightly.

“I – what – no,” Leah stammers.

“Your mom made coffee,” Fatin says, motioning to her cup. “You could have some.”

“I don’t – what day is it?” Leah says dumbly.

“Saturday, honey,” her mom tells her.

“How long have you been up?” Leah asks Fatin.

She shrugs. “An hour?”

“Doing _what_?”

Fatin laughs. “Talking to your mom?”

Leah nods. She still hasn’t wrapped her head around this. Fatin is sitting in her kitchen. With her mother. And they’re talking. (But Leah isn’t sure if she could even call Fatin a friend. She can tell her mother that Fatin is a “friend” because she doesn’t have much of a choice. But saying that to Fatin’s face? Leah wouldn’t dare. And Fatin definitely is not her girlfriend, even though she’s kind-of-sort-of acting like it right now. So what the fuck is going on? Did Leah just enter some parallel universe?)

“I need to shower,” Leah says suddenly. (The evil little smirk that passes across Fatin’s face tells Leah that, if her mother wasn't sitting right here, Fatin’s reply would be _let me join you_ , and Leah is having none of that.)

“Oh, yeah,” Fatin says. “But hurry up. I’ve got a full day planned.”

So Leah _has_ entered a parallel universe. Her mother nods solemnly, so Fatin must’ve filled her in on her plans. Leah’s head is, like, spinning, and she’s in the shower for so long, the water runs cold. (And her father bangs on the door and yells for her to hurry up, which is _so_ not embarrassing while they have a guest in the house, thank you very much, Dad.) And somehow, Leah still forgets Fatin is in her house when she makes the walk from the bathroom to her bedroom with just a towel wrapped around her body. She _does_ scream now, completely not expecting to see Fatin perched on her bed.

“Whoa,” Fatin says, looking up from her phone. “What’s that about?”

“I forgot you were here,” Leah confesses. She kicks the door shut behind her, punches the lock.

“Are you completely naked?”

(Right. The period lie. It’d maybe be a little weird to walk completely naked from the bathroom to her bedroom when she’s supposed to be actively bleeding.)

“I’ve got a tampon in, don’t worry,” Leah mumbles, and Fatin just lays back on Leah’s bed and laughs while Leah scrambles to throw clothes on. “So what are our plans?” Leah asks, buttoning her shirt all the way to her neck and adjusting the collar.

“Are those plants?” Fatin asks, eyes locked onto Leah’s chest.

“Plants…?”

“On your shirt.”

Leah looks down. “Yes. Don’t judge me, okay? You’ve worn some strange shit.”

Fatin snorts. “Have not.”

“ _Don’t hate me cuz you ain’t me_ crop top.”

“Fine. I’ll give you that one.” Fatin gets to her feet. “And don’t worry about our plans. Just go along for the ride, okay?”

*

“Is this a date?” Leah finally works up the courage to ask when they’re sitting at a quiet booth in the back of a restaurant Leah cannot afford. “Because it kind of feels like a date.”

Fatin, damn her, just shrugs. “I guess it’s whatever you want it to be.”

“That’s a terrible answer. First, we run all around town, shopping and _bowling_ and you let me spend over an hour in one bookshop and didn’t even complain. _And_ you paid for my books. And now you’re paying for my dinner. It kind of looks like a date.”

“Technically, I’m swiping my dad’s card,” Fatin admits. “So he’s paying for both of our meals today. But I did pay for your books, so sue me.”

“That still doesn’t refute the other points I just made.”

Fatin sighs heavily, sets her fork down, and stares straight into Leah’s soul from the other side of the table. (Leah also, reluctantly, sets her fork down, too.) “It sucks, but you’re, like, the closest thing I have to a best friend,” Fatin says. “And that is so sad for me, you don’t even _know_ it, okay? This whole _thing_ ,” Fatin pauses to wave her hand around in front of Leah, “where we were just going to fuck and have no feelings about it? Yeah. It doesn’t work.”

Leah would choke if she had anything in her mouth. “What are you saying?” she says.

“I’m saying, we’re, like, friends who fuck or whatever.”

“Friends with benefits.”

“That.”

(Leah’s heart sinks, a little. She’s always known Fatin doesn’t do feelings. Apparently Fatin can do friendship and fucking, and she can do them at the same time without any trouble. Leah, unfortunately, cannot.)

“So, not a date?” Leah says.

“Depends,” Fatin replies. She smirks then stabs a cherry tomato with her fork and pops it into her mouth.

“On what?”

Fatin swallows, continues to smirk. “On whatever happens after dinner ends.”

Leah rolls her eyes but can’t stop herself from laughing with Fatin. (Is it a joke, though? Leah can’t tell.)

*

“Are you just allowed to never be at home?” Leah asks. Fatin holds the door for her, and Leah leads the way to Fatin’s car. “Like, you spent all last night with me _and_ all today. Your parents aren’t, like, freaking out?”

“Oh, they’re freaking out,” Fatin replies. “I just don’t care.”

“Fatin!”

“What?” Fatin says defensively. “They’re both assholes.”

(Not where Leah was expecting her question to take them, but she has a feeling this has something to do with the reason they fucked on a Friday morning, hours before school started.)

“Do you…want to talk about it?” Leah asks. They get in the car. “If not, we can just keep going about our night. I mean, I’ve had a great day.”

“You were supposed to.”

Leah hesitates. “Well, I did, so thank you? I’m confused –”

“My dad’s been cheating on my mom,” Fatin blurts, and Leah goes silent. When Fatin’s eyes seek out Leah’s, Leah manages to nod.

“That’s…a lot to unpack,” Leah says.

“It gets worse.”

(Of course it does.)

“Okay,” Leah says gently.

“She knows about it, and apparently, she thinks it’s fucking fine, as long as – I don’t even know. But she won’t even _do_ anything about it, and I –” Fatin’s voice breaks, and Leah’s eyes widen. (She’s never seen Fatin cry. Never expected to.) But Fatin holds it together, by some miracle. Her eyes shimmer, but no tears fall. “They always say how I’m just like him,” she whispers. “And you know what? Maybe they’re right.”

“Fatin, what – no,” Leah says softly. She doesn’t know if she should try to touch Fatin. (This is entirely new ground that they’re covering, and somehow, Leah thinks sex isn’t the way to handle this. Especially not in the parking lot of a fancy restaurant.) “You aren’t – you’re so much better than that.”

Now, Fatin does swipe at her eyes, but she scoffs and her lips twist into a pained smile. “Am I really, though? I mean, what have we even been _doing_ this whole time, Leah? At this point, we’re basically acting like a couple, except I still want the freedom to fuck whoever I please? I’m _just_ like my father.”

Leah’s brain freezes, refuses to compute what Fatin has just said. “I’m – I don’t – I’ve been fine with –”

“You can’t even deny it!” Fatin exclaims, throwing her hands up. (She narrowly avoids smacking them on the ceiling of the car.) “Say it to me, right now. Tell me I’ve been acting like your girlfriend and reaping all the benefits while refusing to commit to anything serious. Say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Fatin demands. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I – how can it be true? I never asked anything of you.”

“And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?” Fatin sneers. “You never asked me, and I never asked you. We just…went along with whatever was happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Leah says. “I’m getting, like, whiplash here.”

“You asked me point blank if this was a date,” Fatin says. Their eyes lock, and that, Leah cannot deny. “And I couldn’t even say _yes_. Not even if I wanted to, really, because I never asked you to go on a date with me, did I?”

“I guess not, but –”

“And if I did all this then told you I was gonna go fuck some random guy, you’d just let me, because this,” Fatin motions between them, “is technically nothing, right?”

“Technically, I suppose, but –”

“But there’s a _but_ ,” Fatin says. “There’s a _but_ , but we haven’t spoken about it. The unspoken _but_.”

Leah goes silent. She can’t keep up. She shakes her head, trying desperately to wrap her mind around what they’re talking about, before she just blurts, “You know what, Fatin? Your advice really worked.”

Fatin hesitates, eyebrows pulling together, mostly because she has no fucking clue what Leah’s talking about. “ _What_? What advice?”

“At the party,” Leah says. (Her voice is very calm given how she feels on the inside right now. She feels like exploding, in a good way and a bad way, at the same time.) “The first time we really talked. You gave me advice.” Fatin is still drawing a blank, staring at Leah like she’s lost it. Leah sighs. “You said if I wanted to get over someone to fuck someone else. And I told you later that it didn’t work, so we fucked again. And again. And again. And you know what? It did the trick. It fucking worked. I still remember the asshole who hurt me, yes, so I guess the part about forgetting about him entirely wasn’t true, but I – Jeff could show up right now and beg me to take him back, and I wouldn’t do it.”

Now Fatin doesn’t know what to say. Leah gives her a minute, and Fatin finally asks, “Leah, what exactly are you saying?”

Leah laughs, because if she doesn’t, she might cry instead. And that would be worse. “I’m saying,” she says, “I fucked you to get over the man that left me –”

“Took advantage of you in the worst way possible.”

“Whatever.”

“We’re going to work on that,” Fatin says.

“And I caught feelings,” Leah finishes. “But you don’t do feelings. You do casual hookups, and I thought I would be okay with that, but now we’re…I mean, we’re at least friends. We act like friends with benefits, but…”

“But what?”

“Forget it.”

“No, I want you to say it,” Fatin says. “Please.”

“I want more,” Leah admits.

And Fatin nods. She inhales sharply, drops both of her hands on the steering wheel in front of her. Fatin’s eyes close momentarily, and she seems to steel herself before she turns to face Leah again. “So if I asked you on a date right now – like a real one – would you say yes?”

Leah’s lips part. “Would I – are you going to ask?”

“Not if you’re going to reject me.”

“Ask.”

“Will you go on a date with me?” Fatin asks. “We can see a movie or sit in the park or get a hotel room and fuck all night. I don’t really care what we do, as long as it’s, like, official.”

Leah laughs but cuts herself off when Fatin’s face falls. “Oh my God,” Leah breathes. “Yes. Obviously yes. Let’s go.”

Fatin startles. “Yes?”

“Yes! Start the car and drive somewhere.”

“Bossy,” Fatin teases. (She starts the car.) “I like it. Where to?”

“Is your dad going to pay for a hotel room, too?”

“Is he an asshole? Yes and yes.”

“Charge him for the pay-per-view porn, too.”

Fatin laughs until she wheezes. “And we’re definitely taking the five dollar waters from the fridge,” Fatin says. “So help yourself.”

“Ooh, room service!”

*

“You really thought I wouldn’t do feelings?”

Leah grunts. (She wasn’t quite asleep, but she was, like, seconds away from actually knocking out.) “What?” she mumbles. “I mean, yeah. Feelings are, like, not your thing. Ask anyone.”

“So you couldn’t tell that I’ve been into you – well, not the _whole_ time, but definitely the last, like, two months. Probably before that, too, but you know how things sometimes take time to admit to yourself?”

“I really thought you were just in it for the sex.”

“Oh, please.”

“You fucked that guy,” Leah says. She rolls from her stomach onto her side to face Fatin then props her head up on her hand. “At the party that Ian showed up to? And I spent all night with him instead? Well, before we went back to your place and I cried, like, half the night? You remember. Not my greatest night.”

Fatin winces. “Not mine, either.” She exhales. “I’m really sorry. I never should’ve – I freaked out. I mean, I realized what I was feeling, and it scared me, so I ran back to old habits when I really should’ve just talked to you.”

“Yeah, I was pretty obvious about how I felt, wasn’t I?” Leah yawns.

“Sometimes,” Fatin admits. “Other times…I don’t know, after that night, I thought you hated me. You wouldn’t text me for the whole day, and we’d been texting nonstop for weeks.”

“I was jealous. And I felt stupid for it, because I knew you weren’t into me.”

“Except I was.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Leah laughs. “You were off fucking some guy.”

“It wasn’t even worth my time.”

“Gross.”

“It should’ve been you.”

Leah snickers. “That’s sort of sweet, coming from you.”

Fatin shoves at Leah’s arm, and they both grin. “Shut up.” (The TV alerts them that their program has ended, and would they like to pay for another one? Fatin snatches the remote and selects another title, the fourth one of the night so far.)

“You’re putting _more_ porn on?” Leah groans. “I am trying to sleep!”

“This hotel is too _nice_ to sleep in,” Fatin argues. “We should be _fucking_.”

“I think the term is _making love_ when you’re referring to someone you care about.”

“That is _disgusting_ ,” Fatin says, and Leah laughs herself breathless. “Seriously, it’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I can one-up it,” Leah promises.

“How?” Fatin scoffs. “I don’t see how it gets much worse than that.”

“I love you.”

Fatin freezes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Only an asshole says it when they don’t mean it, and trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”

“Stop. Oh my God. You’re serious.”

“Mm-hmm. Dead serious. I love you.”

“Oh, that’s so gross,” Fatin says, but she smiles wider than Leah thinks she’s ever seen before, and then Leah’s crushed under Fatin’s weight as Fatin gets her arms (and legs) locked around Leah. Leah laughs, feeling Fatin’s smile against her neck. They stay like that for a long while, as the porno plays forgotten in the background, and Leah’s _almost_ asleep again when Fatin breaks the silence. “I love you too.”

Leah smiles sleepily, happily, and pats Fatin’s lower back to let her know she heard.

*

(“If we’ve already said _I love you_ , then we’re definitely girlfriends even though neither of us officially asked yet, right?”

“Jesus, Fatin, I have a test tomorrow and I already failed the last one thanks to you. I need to sleep!”

“Sorry! Sorry. I was just checking.”

“But yes, I’m pretty sure what we’ve been doing now makes us girlfriends.”

“Okay, cool, because I already updated all of my socials.”)

*

“How come I’m not in your phone?”

Leah lifts her head from her book (the first fictional novel she’s reading purely for her own enjoyment in months, since _his_ book, and it’s actually really good) and looks to her left at Fatin. (Since the night they sorted everything out, they’ve started seeing each other before _and_ after school, and somehow, they text even more than they did before, including the occasional _you up?_ )

“Huh?” Leah says.

Fatin turns Leah’s phone screen toward her, and she’s got Leah’s contacts pulled up. “I’m not in here at all,” Fatin points out. “And I know for a fact I put my number in your phone.”

“Oh,” Leah mumbles. She scratches at the back of her neck, smiles sheepishly as her face heats up under Fatin’s curious stare. “It’s, like, this thing I do,” she admits. “You know. When I like someone. I don’t, uh, put them in as a contact.”

Fatin blinks. “So…?”

“So I have your number memorized and know it when it pops up,” Leah says.

Slowly, Fatin grins. “You have my number _memorized_?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. You’re fucking with me.”

“510-632-7319.”

“What the _fuck_?” Fatin laughs. “That’s amazing.”

Leah smiles, shakes her head, and snaps her book shut. She leans over and snatches her phone back, quickly types something in. Then she hands her phone back to Fatin. “Is that better?”

Fatin busts out laughing, clutching at her chest. “I’m pretty sure I originally put myself in your phone as Hottest _Bitch_ at School, not Hottest _Babe_ at School.”

Leah shrugs. “I mean, you woke me up to make sure we were official last night, and I said we were – _and_ you updated all your profiles – so now that you have a contact name in my phone, we’re officially official.”

“You’re something else, Rilke,” Fatin says fondly. She tosses Leah’s phone back into her lap. “Come on,” Fatin says, getting to her feet. She holds her hands out to Leah, wiggling her fingers. “I’ll walk you to class. Maybe it’ll give you good luck for your test.”

Leah puts her book away and takes Fatin’s hands, allows Fatin to pull her to her feet. After Leah slings her backpack over her back, Fatin holds her hand out again, as an offer. For a moment, Leah stares at it.

“You know,” Leah says slowly, “if we hold hands during school, people are going to talk.”

Fatin smirks then throws Leah a wink. “Hell yeah they are,” she agrees. “And I’m going to like it.”

Leah takes her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for all of your kind words. I really cannot thank you enough. As someone who typically does not write outside of one fandom (Fear the Walking Dead), the reception to this fic has been absolutely incredibly, and I'm grateful for you all. Thank you for taking the time to read this fic, and thank you to all of you who have left kudos and comments. Feel free to share your thoughts on this chapter with me, and I'll reply as quickly as I can!


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